Autumn Page 0,71

Taking a deep breath he unlocked the door and ran over to the shed which housed the generator. The conditions were atrocious and he was soaked through in seconds. Ignorant to the cold and the vicious, swirling wind, he flung open the wooden door and threw the switch which stopped the machine, suddenly silencing its constant thumping and plunging the farmhouse into complete darkness in one single movement.

Emma caught her breath at the moment the lights died. The darkness explained Michael's sudden disappearance and she ran out to the landing to make sure that he had made it safely back inside. She was relieved when she heard the back door slam shut and lock.

'You okay?' she asked as he dragged himself breathlessly back up the stairs.

He nodded and cleared his throat.

'I'm okay.'

The two survivors stood at the top of the stairs, holding each other tightly. Save for the muffled roar of the wind and rain outside the house was silent. The lack of any other sound was eerie and unnerving. Michael took old of Emma's hand and led her back to the bedroom.

'What the hell are we going to do?' she whispered. She sat down on the edge of the bed as Michael looked out of the window.

'Don't know,' he answered, instinctively and honestly. 'We should wait and see if they disappear before we do anything. There's no light or noise to attract them now. They should go.'

'But what are we going to do?' she asked again. 'We can't live without light. Christ, winter's coming. We'll need fire and light...'

Michael didn't reply. Instead he simply stared down at the crowd of decomposing corpses. He watched the bodies in the distance, still dragging themselves towards the house, and prayed that they would become disinterested and turn away.

Emma was right. What quality of life would they have hiding in a dark house with no light, warmth or other comfort? But what was the alternative? On this cold and desolate night there didn't seem to be any.

Rapidly becoming sick of it all, Michael turned away from the window, took Emma's hand and led her out of the room. The temperature was low and to hold her close was comforting and reassuring.

Carl remained alone in the bedroom, leaning against the window, watching the milling crowds beyond the barricade with fear, unease and mounting hate. He hadn't even noticed that the other two had left the room.

Chapter 31

Emma finally managed to fall asleep a little after two o'clock the following morning but she was awake again by four.

Her bedroom was dull and cold. She woke up with a sudden start and sat bolt upright in bed. The air around her face was icy and her breath condensed in cool clouds around her mouth and nose.

Since arriving at the farm she and Michael had shared this room. There was nothing sinister or untoward about Michael's presence there - he continued to sleep on the floor in the gap between the bed and the outside wall and he discreetly looked away or left the room whenever she dressed or undressed. Neither had ever spoken about their unusual sleeping arrangements. Both of them silently continued to welcome the warm comfort and security of having another living, breathing person close nearby.

This was the first morning that Michael hadn't been there when she'd looked. He often rose first but, until this morning, she'd always been aware of him getting up and leaving the room.

She instinctively leant over to her right (as she often did first thing) and, finding it hard to focus her eyes in the early morning gloom, stretched out her arm, hoping that her outstretched fingers would reach the reassuring bulk of her sleeping friend. This morning, however, her tired eyes had not deceived her - where she had expected to find Michael she instead found only his crumpled sleeping bag. He had definitely been there when she'd gone to bed because she could clearly remember hearing him snuffling and snoring as he had drifted off to sleep beside her. She leant across a little further, picked up the empty sleeping bag and pulled it close to her face. It smelled of Michael, and it was still warm from the heat of his body.

No need to panic, she thought.

Had it been any later then she wouldn't have been unduly worried, but it was only four o'clock. Perhaps he hadn't been able to sleep. Maybe he'd just gone elsewhere because he'd been restless and